


Operation: Distraction!

by zorb



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-22
Updated: 2004-08-22
Packaged: 2017-10-07 15:23:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/66441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zorb/pseuds/zorb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Desperate to end Ron's fixation on his sister's love life, Harry and Hermione undertake Operation Distraction. Will their plans succeed? Or will they reveal something neither of them expects? Written between OotP and HBP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Operation: Distraction!

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally written for the LiveJournal hphg_ficathon. Abundant thanks to my beta team (Abigail, Joyce, Photo and Jenn) and to everyone who so kindly reviewed on LJ.

 “Schmoopy.”

 

Hermione set down her fork. “Beg your pardon, Ron?”

 

“That’s the best word for it, I’ve decided,” Ron answered, glaring down the table.

 

Hermione shared a glance with Harry.  “Ron, they’ve been together for six months.  Don’t you think it’s time you got over it and at least pretended to be happy for Ginny and Dean?”

 

“Happy?” he exploded.  “Happy that that…that…overgrown artsy wanker’s got his oil painty paws all over my one and only sister?  You’re mental.”

 

“They’re hardly all over her,” Harry remarked.  “And I saw Dean wash his hands before lunch.”

 

Ron glared at him.  “Don’t take the piss.”

 

“_Ron_,” Hermione admonished.

 

“I’m not hungry,” Ron continued, as if he hadn’t heard her.  He swung his legs over the bench, grabbed his bag, and stalked out of the Great Hall in a huff.

 

“Well.  That was mature,” Hermione commented. 

 

Harry sighed and went back to his shepherd’s pie, thinking it was good that he hadn’t mentioned Ron and Dean were the same height.  “He’ll get over it.  You know Ron, he just needs time to get used to things.”

 

“That, or a swift kick in the pants.”  Harry nearly spit out his mouthful of potatoes.  “What?  You know it’s true.  Ron has never been able to handle something he doesn’t like until something else beats him over the head.”

 

Harry thought about that.  Ron hadn’t gotten over Harry’s participation in the Triwizard Tournament until he saw the physical threat to his friend…it took Buckbeak’s trial to get him to reconcile with Hermione in Third Year…maybe she had a point.  “Well, just say the word and I’ll whack him with my Firebolt.”

 

Hermione giggled at that, giving Harry an inner spike of pride.  Laughter was so rare in these times from anyone who really knew what was going on out there.  Harry envied Ginny and Dean their ability to be happy in spite of it all.  Ron’s resentment was surely a reflection his – all of their – real fears. But that didn’t make it any more pleasant to share a dorm with him.

 

His friend’s voice broke him out of his spell.  “As much as I’d like to see his face after that, I doubt it would achieve the proper end.  No, what Ron needs is a distraction.”

 

“Like what?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.  “I’d rather not fight any dark wizards tillat least March, please.”

 

“Not like _that_,” she said, rolling her eyes.  “I mean something lighter, something to occupy him so that he won’t have to be jealous of what his sister’s got.”

 

Harry stared at her blankly.

 

“Oh, honestly, Harry.  I’m talking about getting a girlfriend.”

 

This time, Harry did choke on his pumpkin juice.  He coughed, Hermione thwacking him on the back.  _Note to self: Do not attempt to eat when it is clear that Hermione is going to say something revealing_.  When he regained control, he asked, intelligently, “What?”

 

She leaned in closer with a conspiratorial look that he’d seen before and that he knew to fear.  “A girlfriend for Ron.  Or a date, at the very least.  I’m sure we’ll be able to find someone here to set him up with,” she said, glancing not-so-casually around the Hall. 

 

Harry relaxed, now that the world as he knew it was upright once more.  “You’d know better than me what girls might be interested in him.”

 

“Well, it’s not so easy as that, actually.  He got a bad reputation at the Yule Ball, you know.”

 

“That was two years ago!” Harry protested.  “Who cares anymore?”

 

She fixed him with a stern look.  “Girls don’t forget these things, Harry.  Once you’re labeled, you’re stuck with it for life.”

 

“Great,” he replied, burying his face in his hands.  After last year’s Cho disaster and the previous year’s Parvati debacle, Colin’s photos of him had probably been posted in all the girls’ dorms, marked “Do Not Date” in fat, red letters.

 

“Oh, don’t worry,” Hermione said, exasperated.  “You’re still on the good list.  Some labels supercede others.”

 

Harry felt his face getting hot and kept his hands over it.  “I’ll never understand girls.”

 

“Which is what makes you so perfectly adorable, Harry,” she replied. 

 

Now he was certain he was blushing.  _Please change the subject, please change the subject…_he thought desperately. 

 

“But it’s no good if _she_ just likes him.  What we really need to know,” she mused, “is whom _Ron_ might like to date.”

 

She couldn’t possibly…Harry risked a peek through his fingers at his best friend sitting beside him, looking for all the world as if she were pondering an unfathomable Arithmancy problem.  “Hermione…” he started.  She looked up hopefully.  “You can’t tell me you don’t- I mean, you’re smarter than both of us put together and then some, you have to have noticed…”

 

“Noticed what?  Tell me, Harry, it’s not like _he_ would.”

 

“I- I just thought it was obvious that-” She was getting annoyed now, might as well say it.  Ron could kill him later.  “That he fancied you,” he finished softly.

 

To his surprise, Hermione burst out laughing.  “Oh, was _that_ what that whole production was about?  Harry, I hate to break it to you, but Ron’s been over me since this summer.”

 

“What?  You knew about…it?”  He couldn’t find a better, non-incriminating word.  People were starting to glance over.

 

She noticed and lowered her voice.  “Of course I did, he hid it badly enough!  The Yule Ball thing, and then Christmas last year…but Ginny told me that he changed over the summer.  Didn’t so much as bat an eye when she mentioned I met up with Viktor in Diagon Alley.”

 

“You met Krum this summer?” he demanded.

 

She blinked.  “Didn’t I tell you?  Anyway, that’s not important, what matters is he’s over it and perfectly open to someone new who might actually-- unless you think he isn’t?  He hasn’t said anything to you about me like that lately, has he?” she asked, looking concerned.

 

“No, no,” Harry answered hurriedly.  Now that she had said it, he realized he hadn’t seen any of the all-too-clear signs of Ron’s feelings since last year.  He suddenly felt lighter.  “But I don’t think he’s interested in anyone else, either.”

 

“Hm.”  Ignoring the food on her plate, Hermione stared off into the empty space across the table where Ron had been. 

 

Harry fidgeted in his seat, wondering if he should speak his mind.  If he was right, problem solved – sort of – and if he was wrong…actually, he couldn’t come up with why that would be bad.  “Hermione,” he started, “do you-- I mean, just because Ron doesn’t fancy you anymore doesn’t mean he couldn’t-- what I mean is, if you want to date him--”

 

“What?” she exclaimed, jerking out of her thoughts.  “No!”

 

“Oh, that’s good, then,” Harry said, without thinking. 

  
”It is?” she questioned, giving him that keen stare that always made him sure she was reading his mind.

 

“Er,” he said, eloquently.  “Yeah…so I won’t have to listen to him freak out about whoever we set him up with alone.”

 

“Oh,” she replied, eyes averted.  Suddenly, she gasped and turned back to Harry.  “We’re going to be late to class if we don’t leave right now!”

 

Harry looked around at the nearly empty Great Hall, grabbed his things, and ran out the door after his friend.

 

~~~

 

N.E.W.T. level Charms class generally held everyone’s attention, but today was a Theory day, which meant lots of lecture and little action.  Rather than listening to Flitwick’s speech about the history of Merlin-class charms (named after their inventor), Harry’s mind drifted to his lunchtime conversation.  He tried to come up with girls in their year who might want to date his best male friend.  Ron was moderately popular, what with being a Weasley and (Harry cringed to admit it) close to The Boy Who Lived, and last year’s Quidditch Cup had boosted him up a notch.  Maybe someone from the DA? 

 

The problem was that Harry didn’t know the girls outside Gryffindor much at all.  The realization startled him; he hadn’t been aware of how cloistered he’d been for the past five years in their trio.  The only girl he really knew more than one or two details about was sitting right next to him, writing furiously.

 

Harry glanced over at Hermione’s notes, hoping to find out what Flitwick was currently lecturing on, in case he started asking questions.  To his surprise, however, the parchment had nothing to do with pre-Hogwartsian philosophers.  Instead, it was a chart.  He risked a closer look.  Hermione had labeled the columns “NAME”, “HOUSE”, “BEST SUBJECTS”, “EXTRACIRRICULAR INTERESTS”, and “APPEARANCE”.  That last had been crossed out twice and rewritten.  She was currently filling in the first column, and already Harry could see she’d come up with more girls than he had.  He also noticed that she hadn’t written her own name down and smiled to himself. 

 

Hermione paused and looked over at him, as if she could feel him watching her.  He raised an eyebrow and nodded towards her list.  She smiled slightly, cheeks pinking, and shrugged.  He grinned wider. 

 

Someone sneezed, prompting them both to jump in their seats and Ron to jolt out of the sulk they’d found him in upon arrival.  Ron…Harry suddenly realized that maybe just finding a girl wasn’t their biggest problem.  The only class Harry and Hermione didn’t have with Ron was Potions, and with the smaller class size and Snape being Snape, they would find little opportunity to discuss their matchmaking plans then.  Harry sincerely hoped Hermione had thought about that one and come up with an answer, too.

 

Potions was their next class, in fact, so when the bell rang, they bid Ron farewell and took off down the stairs to the dungeons.  Harry explained what he’d just realized to Hermione.

 

She bit her lip.  “I didn’t think of that,” she admitted.  “But I’m sure there’ll be times when he has Prefect business and I don’t.  That happens.”

 

“Occasionally.”

 

“True.  But some of it’s out of choice that we work together.  I can say I need to do my duties alone, while you’re both at Quidditch practice; they’ll certainly go faster that way,” she reasoned.

 

“He’ll know something’s up,” Harry remarked.

 

“Not if it works,” Hermione said.  “The goal is to distract him, remember?”

 

“Right, but we’ve got to find someone to distract him _with_ first, remember?”

 

She gave him a stern look.  “Think of some excuse to stay in the common room after he goes to bed tonight.  I’ll sneak down and join you, and then we can work on this,” she said, stuffing the chart into a notebook as they entered Snape’s classroom.

 

Not that Harry had an opportunity to protest, but he followed Hermione’s orders to a T, citing a Potions essay that still needed work when Ron began yawning that night.  There were only a few stragglers left by that time, and Harry wondered if Hermione had given up and gone to bed.  Sure enough, though, she joined him on the fireside sofa not five minutes after Ron had gone upstairs.

 

 “Right, let’s get started,” she said, placing the now completed chart on the table.  Harry was amazed.

 

“How do you know all this stuff?  I don’t even know who half these girls are.”

 

She rolled her eyes.  “Your powers of observation never cease to amaze me.”

 

“Ha, ha.”  He examined the chart, which listed at least three academic subjects and extracurricular interests beside each name.  Then he noticed something.  “You didn’t fill in the last column.”

 

She shifted uncomfortably.  “I know.  It’s for you to – er, rate them.  Objectively.”

 

“You mean like on a scale from one to ten?” he asked incredulously.

 

“Or whatever.  I don’t know, you’re male, you know better what kind of girl is considered…um, dateable.  In a purely physical, objective sense, you understand.  I was going to make it descriptive, but I don’t think that’ll help; Ron seems to go for anything female and clear-skinned,” she commented, referring to the Eloise Midgen incident two years ago.  “If you really don’t recognize their names, I can probably describe them enough for you to figure it out…”

 

He skimmed the list.  “No, I think I can do it.  I mean, now that you’ve got their names and houses down, I can figure it out from classes.”

 

“Good,” she said, shooting up off the couch.  “I’ll leave you to it, then.  See you in the morning.”  And she raced up the stairs like she had an exam to study for (she didn’t, Harry knew). 

 

“That was strange,” he remarked to no one.  The common room was empty now, aside from him and Crookshanks, who was stretched out in front of the fire, his tail swishing lazily from side to side.  “What’s wrong with your mistress?” he asked the cat.  Crookshanks, predictably, said nothing.

 

Best get this done so he could go to bed, then.  He didn’t want to think about Hermione’s reaction if he showed up with an incomplete chart the next morning.  _Abbot, Hannah_ – they were alphabetized – well, she was an easy one, DA and all that.  She wasn’t bad looking – not to Harry’s taste, but then, this project wasn’t about Harry’s taste in girls.  On a whim, he skimmed the page again.  Come to think of it, none of the names here sparked more than passing interest in him.  What was that he’d heard about being ruined for all other girls or something?  Maybe Cho had done that to him.  She’d probably be pleased.  Harry shook himself off that particular memory path and returned to the list, putting himself in what he hoped was an objective mind frame.  Once there, the project didn’t take too long.  He double checked the parchment and slipped it into his Potions book before giving the cat a pat on the head and heading upstairs to bed.

 

~~~

 

Harry found Hermione waiting impatiently for him at the foot of the stairs the next morning.  “Well?” she whispered, dodging the second years running down behind Harry.

 

“Done,” he said with satisfaction, digging out the chart and passing it over. 

 

She looked it over, nodding with satisfaction.  “Nice grading system.”

 

He grinned.  “It’s descriptive.”  He’d decided to forego the numerical system in favor of the marks used for O.W.L.s: Outstanding, Exceeds Expectations, Acceptable, Poor, Dreadful and Troll.

 

She smirked, and then did a double take.  “An O for Daphne Greengrass?  Really?”

  
He shrugged.  “Objectively speaking, she’s hot.”

 

Hermione made a small noise in her throat.  “And-”

 

“What are we looking at?” asked Ron, jumping down the last two stairs to stand by Harry.  Harry tried to come up with an answer, but Hermione saved them.

 

“Potions assignment,” she said briskly, sliding the parchment out of view into a book.  It worked; Ron shrank back, as if the mere presence of Snape’s handwriting could take points from Gryffindor. 

 

“Actually,” Harry said, picking up on the save, “it’s more like a project.  It’ll be loads of work.  We’ll probably have to spend all our free time doing it.”

 

Hermione’s eyes lit up as she cottoned onto what he was saying.  “Yes, I’m afraid you’ll have to entertain yourself at night for the next few weeks, Ron.  Between the dungeons and the library-”

 

“Oi!  I get the picture.  No Snape before breakfast, please,” Ron cut her off.  They headed through the portrait together.

 

“You’re looking better this morning,” Hermione said as they walked to the Great Hall.

 

“Quidditch tonight,” Ron replied, a bounce in his step.

 

“Oh, about that,” Hermione said, as if she had just remembered, “Ron, I’m going to do my half of our duties while you two are off at practice so that I can spend more time in the library when it’s quiet.  Research for the-”

 

“Potions project, yeah, all right.  Glad I’m not you, that’s all I have to say,” Ron said with a shrug. 

 

There was one hurdle gone.  Harry looked sideways at Hermione, taking her tiny nod as a promise to meet up after practice that night.

 

Luckily, said practice went swiftly, and Harry had time for a quick shower before meeting his friend in the library.  She always wrinkled her nose in distaste when the two of them came back sweaty and smelly.  Hermione had a book on the table when he arrived, but she pushed it to the side as soon as he sat down and whipped out the chart.  There was a new column on the right, labeled “Y/N”.  “The next step is to choose the possibilities,” she explained.

 

“More than one?” he asked.

 

“Well, yes.  You don’t think the first girl he meets will fall for him, do you?”  Harry shrugged.  He hadn’t thought about it at all, to be honest.  “It might take a few tries.  Trust me.”

"Always," he replied. She raised her head to look at him, and their eyes met briefly before Harry tore himself away and went back to the chart.

 

“So do any of these girls fancy Ron already?” he inquired, trying to reread the list upside-down. 

 

“Well, Padma gave him a pretty sour review in Ravenclaw two years ago – I guess that’s a definite N for her, despite _someone’s_ high rating – so none of those girls think much of him.  Shame, he could use a smart girlfriend.  Slytherin’s all under Malfoy’s control, but you never know, dating a Gryffindor could be considered ambitious.  The Gryffindors might know him too well already, but Hufflepuff is a good place to look for fair judgment.”  She looked up.  “What’s so funny?”

 

“Nothing,” he replied, stifling his laughter so that Madam Pince wouldn’t come over.  “Just you in gossip mode.  It’s a side of you we rarely get to see.”

 

“It’s a side I’d rather not have, thank you very much,” she said.  “Why people waste so much time on this sort of talk is beyond me.”

 

“Don’t feel bad, we need it now.”

 

“I suppose so.  Let’s take a look,” she said, conspicuously changing the subject.

 

When they eliminated the Ravenclaws (temporarily, Hermione added – they’d rated fairly high) and the Slytherins (despite Daphne’s rating, they didn’t feel up to the challenge of crossing house rivalry boundaries), and rejected any too lowly rated (Harry felt guilty, but they needed a quick answer), there were only a few names left.

 

“Hannah and Megan are out – they’ve got boyfriends,” Hermione noted.  “Lavender and Parvati…well, I suppose we could _try_…”

 

“Let’s go with the Hufflepuffs first,” Harry suggested.  “I don’t think we need the biggest school gossips attached to this.”

 

Hermione smirked.  “I thought you didn’t pay attention to any of that, Harry,” she said, leaning back in her chair, quill tapping her hose.

 

He threw up his hands. “I’m not completely blind!  You’d have to be really thick not to know something like that,” he said in his defense.

 

“Susan or Sally-Ann, then,” Hermione said, marking Ys by their names.  “I’ll find out if they’re interested during class tomorrow, and you-”

 

“That’s a pretty chart,” interrupted a dreamy voice.  Both Harry and Hermione jumped; they hadn’t seen Luna Lovegood come up behind them.

 

Hermione flipped the chart over.  “It’s very rude to read over other people’s shoulders,” she huffed.  “How long have you been standing there?”

 

“Oh, not long at all.  I was just on my way to the Facts section,” she replied, Snitch-shaped earrings dangling.

 

“Facts section?  Isn’t the whole library facts?” Harry asked.

 

Luna laughed softly.  “Oh, no, only that aisle in the back.  The rest is just paper.  Where’s Ronald tonight?”

 

“Prefect duties.  And Luna, you’ve got it backwards.  That aisle is the _Fiction_ section.  All the rest is nonfiction,” Hermione answered.

 

“Well, I suppose some people might think so.  But books don’t always _know_ they’re fiction, do they?” Luna said, giving a little wave as she wandered off down the stacks.

 

Hermione shook her head.  “She’s so frustrating.  The way she clings to fantasy as if it were real…”

 

“I don’t know, Hermione.  Weren’t you the one who said _Hogwarts, A History_ was a biased work of fiction?” Harry replied.

 

She bristled.  “That’s different.”

Harry refrained from asking how. 

 

With their business done, the duo pulled out their actual Potions homework (not a project, but they still had a weekly essay to write) and worked in peaceful silence until Madam Pince shooed them out.  When they got back to the common room, they found Ron slouched in an armchair, glaring daggers at the empty table in the corner.  “They were at it again,” he grumbled when they asked.  “Right out in the open – broad, bloody daylight.  It’s disgusting.  And schmoopy.”

 

The conspirators shared a “this project is coming none too soon”glance before Harry dragged Ron upstairs so the redhead could sulk in his own bed curtains. 

 

The next morning at breakfast, Hermione was nowhere to be found, presumably off gossiping –or whatever – with the Hufflepuff girls.  Ron kept looking at the doors; Harry decided to take the opportunity to do some investigating of his own.  He took a deep breath.  “You know, Ron, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you fancied Hermione.”

Ron looked at him like he had two heads.  “What?”

 

“Er – I thought that’s who you keep looking over there for?”  This was why he usually left the strategizing up to Hermione.  Luckily, Ron didn’t seem to notice his discomfort.

 

“Oh, yeah, I need to copy her Transfiguration notes.  I was working on that Defense essay during last class,” Ron replied, taking a bite of sausage.

 

“She won’t let you,” Harry pointed out.  “I’ll give you mine.  Why didn’t you ask me in the first place?”

 

“Hers are better,” Ron said with a shrug.  “What?  You know it’s true!”

 

Harry decided to save that discussion for later and work at his goal instead.  “Ah, Ron, speaking of – fancying people – do you?”

 

There was that look again.  “Why?”

 

“No reason.”  _Just answer the question! _he thought.  Why was this so hard?  “Just curious.”

 

Ron shrugged again.  “There was Hermione…”

 

Harry’s stomach lurched.  “You fancy Hermione?” he managed.

 

“I did.  But not anymore.  She’s, you know, _Hermione._”

 

Harry relaxed and gave a half grin.  “She’s something else, all right.”

 

“Something _impossible_, you mean,” Ron corrected. 

 

“I thought we got over that in first year,” Harry said, looking at his friend incredulously.

 

Ron rolled his eyes.  “Oh, you know what I mean, Harry!  She’s a great friend, but as a girlfriend?  No way.  She’s too bossy.”

 

“She’s usually right.”

 

“She doesn’t understand about Quidditch.”

 

“Not everyone has to be an athlete.”

 

“She never minds her own business.”

 

“Only because she cares.”

 

“You know Harry, if I didn’t know better, I’d think _you_ fancied Hermione,” Ron said, sitting back and folding his arms.

 

Harry dropped his fork.  “What?  That’s ridiculous.”

 

“Keep your robes on, I was just joking,” Ron replied, going back to his breakfast.

 

“Ron.  I don’t fancy Hermione,” Harry insisted in a whisper.

 

“I know, Harry.”

 

_I don’t_, he repeated to himself.  _At least, I think I don’t_…

 

“Oh, no,” Ron groaned, looking over Harry’s shoulder.

 

“Hermione?” Harry asked, turning around.  But it wasn’t their housemate approaching them; it was Luna Lovegood.

 

“What’s she want, I wonder?” Ron whispered, but before Harry could answer, the girl was upon them.

 

“Good morning, Ronald,” said Luna.  “How is your breakfast?”

 

Ron blinked.  “Fine.  Er- yours?”

 

She considered the question.  “I should have put more butter on my toast.  The eggs were all right, though.  My breakfast was filling.  Thank you for asking.”

 

“No problem,” Ron replied, meeting her eyes.  She didn’t say anything else, just continued looking at him as if he were one of Hagrid’s tamer class specimens.  Harry was just beginning to feel uncomfortable when a stack of books plopped down on the table next to him.  The three of them jumped and looked at the newcomer.

 

“Hi,” said Hermione, grabbing a slice of toast and jam.  “Sorry I didn’t mention I’d be late, I had to look something up – I’m famished.”  She looked at Luna as if just noticing her.  “Hello, Luna.”

 

“Hello,” Luna replied, stepping back from the table.  “Have a nice day, Ronald, Harry.”  And as quickly as Hermione had arrived, Luna was gone.  Ron shook his head, eyes drifting down the table towards his sister.  Harry looked at Hermione for some sign of what she’d learned from the Hufflepuffs.  She met his eyes; it didn’t look good.

 

“Harry, can you give me those you-know-whats so I can do you-know-what before you-know-what?” Ron asked.

 

Hermione rolled her eyes.  “Very subtle, Ron.  But I won’t say anything about it if you tell me what Luna wanted.”

 

Ron lit up as Harry turned to pull out his Transfiguration notes.  “Easy.  She wanted to know how my breakfast was.  Thanks, Harry.”  He picked up his things.  “I’m going to go copy these before class.  See you there.”

 

“No luck, huh?” Harry asked when he was gone.

 

Hermione swallowed her toast.  “No.  Susan likes Ernie MacMillan.  Sally-Anne said redheads weren’t her type, but she wanted to know if you were available.”  She gazed fixedly at her plate and chewed.

 

Harry raised his eyebrows.  “What’d you tell her?”

 

“That she wasn’t _your_ type,” she replied, matter-of-factly.

 

“How do you know- never mind.  So I guess it’s Lavender or Parvati?” he continued.

She sighed. "I suppose so. I just hate to think of Ron in the hands of a girl who would probably be more interested in the idea of a boyfriend than in him. I've shared a room with them for over five years, and while a ridiculous amount of their conversation is devoted to boys, it hasn't been about Ron more than anyone else. Of course," she considered, "it's possible that they just don't mention either of you while I'm around."

 

Harry thought that he was getting entirely too much insight into the female mind this week.  “So are you going to talk to them?”

 

“Yes, I will.  You’re sure he doesn’t have anyone in mind?” she asked.

 

That jogged his memory.  “Oh, hey, I was asking him about that while you were gone.”

 

She perked up.  “And?  What did he say?”

 

Good question.  He racked his brain.  “Actually, I don’t think he ever said.”

 

She paused, glass halfway to her mouth. “What do you mean?  You asked him, and he didn’t answer?”  

 

“We got distracted,” he admitted.

 

“In between your question and his answer?” She gave him a skeptical look.

 

“Hey, it’s not that simple with guys, you can’t just randomly ask that kind of thing.  We’re not-- girls,” he finished lamely.

 

“Clearly,” Hermione snorted.

 

Harry sighed and looked down the table at where one of Ginny’s friends was chattering at Seamus.  “Hermione,” he said slowly, an idea taking shape in his mind, “was there any reason we only looked at girls in our year?”

 

“To keep the pool smaller,” Hermione replied.  “And I don’t know the other years as well, since we’re not in classes with them, though we could give it a try if you want.  I don’t think we should go any lower than fourth year, but-”

 

“We don’t need to,” interrupted Harry.  “Fifth year should do just fine.” 

 

Her brow furrowed.  “Harry, what on earth are you…” she trailed off as she followed his gaze across the Great Hall to the Ravenclaw table.  She gasped in realization and turned back to him.  “You don’t mean-”

 

“Yep.”

 

“Does she…?”

 

“Even _I_ can see it.”

 

“Does he?”

 

“Well, he doesn’t hate her.”

 

She stared at him, mouth slightly open.  “That’s either the most insane or the most brilliant idea you’ve ever had.  Possibly both.”

 

He grinned.  “So you like it?”

 

She returned his smile.  “Definitely.”

 

Harry swelled with pride.  With Hermione and him on the case, Luna Lovegood wouldn’t have to ask Ron about his breakfast; she’d be sharing it with him.

 

~~~

 

Now that they knew whom they were going to set Ron up with, the question was how to do it.  Harry and Hermione spent Transfiguration carefully passing notes when neither Professor McGonagall nor Ron was looking.  They couldn’t push Ron into anything; he would notice and either be offended that they were “taking pity” on him or resist their efforts entirely.  That Luna’s crush on Ron was obvious, if in an unconventional way, made their job easier, as there was no need to convince her to go out with him.  Getting Ron to ask her out was the hard part.  They didn’t share any classes, nor the same House.  With no DA this year, due to having a competent professor, they rarely saw the girl unless she sought them out.

 

Telling Luna about the plan was out of the question, as well.  As Hermione explained, “It’ll be better in the long run if they get together as naturally as we can make it happen.  Plus, I don’t trust her not to give the whole thing away.” 

 

They’d have to tread carefully, however; both of their targets could be remarkably insightful.  Hermione started a new list, entitled “METHODOLOGY”.  She and Harry decided to take it outside on Saturday morning, as the weather was sunny and they could get away from listening ears.  Unfortunately, Ron refused her suggestion that he stay indoors and catch up on his reading (“You’ll get distracted outside!”  “I’ll get distracted in here!”) and tagged along.  Harry resigned himself to doing actual work, gathered his materials, and followed his bickering friends out to their usual tree by the lake.

 

They weren’t the only ones taking advantage of the weather; students were spread around the lake, in pairs, groups, or on their own.  Ron caught a glimpse of Neville sitting by the shore and waved him over to join them.  Harry, looking in the opposite direction, saw something more alarming – Ginny and Dean were strolling hand in hand, and they seemed to be headed their way.  He elbowed Hermione in the side and nodded his head in the couple’s direction. 

 

Hermione’s eyes widened, but not with distress.  To Harry’s confusion, she cupped her hands around her mouth and called out, “Ginny!  Dean!  Over here!”

 

Ron’s head whipped around, and he glared alternately at his roommate and at Hermione as she waved them over.  Harry saw the pair exchange a wary glance, but they soon joined the quartet under the beech tree.  “Don’t tell me you’re actually studying today,” exclaimed Ginny upon seeing their assorted books and papers.

 

“Okay, I won’t tell you,” Harry replied.  Dean snickered, but cut off when Ron fixed him with a glare.  Hermione rolled her eyes. 

 

“What’ve you got there, Dean?” Neville asked, oblivious to the interactions around him.

 

“My sketchpad,” Dean replied, lifting the strap of his satchel, “and some pencils.”

 

“Oh, are you drawing the lake?” Hermione asked.

 

“Um…” Dean said, eyes darting between his girlfriend and her brother.

 

“He’s drawing me!” Ginny said, grinning brightly. 

 

Harry thought Ron’s eyes were going to fall out, and he was reminded of the look Uncle Vernon got when anyone mentioned “magic” in his hearing.

 

“By the lake!” Dean added frantically.  “I mean-- with the squid in the-- background and—daylight…people…” He made an indistinct noise in his throat and gave up.  As was clear to everyone, save perhaps a glowing Ginny, Ron was near apoplectic, so Dean tugged on his girlfriend’s hand.  “How about we do one against those rocks, way down there?”

 

“Sure,” she said, waving at the group as they walked away, “but I might take my robes off for this one, since it’s warm…” 

 

Harry watched as Dean practically ran away from them, tugging a bemused Ginny behind them.

 

Hermione sighed and tossed her hair over her shoulder.  The sunlight brought out a reddish tinge in it that Harry hadn’t noticed before.  “She means her _outer_ robes, Ron.  She’s not getting naked in broad daylight surrounded by other people.”  Such fine distinctions were having no effect on the state of Ron’s flush.  “What is it about them that gets you so angry, anyway?  Do you suddenly hate Dean?  Or are you just jealous?”

  
That snapped him out of it.  “Jealous?!  Hermione, she’s my sister!”  Neville clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh.  “I heard that, Longbottom.”

 

“Honestly, Ron, must you be so willfully dense?  Are you jealous of what they _have_ – a healthy, caring relationship?”  She nodded her head towards the couple.  Ginny was now perched on the rocks, knees drawn up, gazing off across the lake as Dean, much more relaxed now, worked from his seat on the grass, leaning against a fallen log.

 

Ron mumbled something unintelligible.

 

“Oh, you’re impossible.”  Hermione sighed again and settled down on her stomach, staring at the page she had opened to without really seeming to read it.  Harry had a feeling he knew what was on her mind, but resisted the sudden urge to give her shoulder a comforting squeeze.

 

“It must be nice.”

 

Everyone turned around to see Luna standing behind them.  She didn’t notice, but simply continued gazing off at the couple in question.  Neville sneezed, and she turned as if she had just noticed they were all sitting there.  “Salamander dander,” she told him with a sage nod.  “It’s rampant this time of year.”

 

Harry eyed Hermione, wondering if she was going to contest that statement, but instead, he saw a strange and frightening gleam in his friend’s eyes as she rolled over and sat up.  “I agree!” she said.

 

Now everyone turned to stare at Hermione.

 

“S-salamanders?” Neville questioned.

 

“No, of course not.  I mean with what you were saying about Ginny and Dean, Luna – that it must be nice to have someone.”  Harry saw where she was going with this now and smiled inwardly.  “Someone to take walks with, someone to study with, someone to have and hold…” 

 

_Abort, abort! _ Harry made a frantic slashing motion across his throat, willing Hermione to stop before she dug herself into a hole.  She took the hint and finished her speech.  “Anyway.  I’m sure that’s something all of us want.”

 

“Actually, I was talking about the Giant Squid,” Luna replied. 

 

“The Squid?” Ron repeated, speaking for the first time.

 

“Yes.  To swim all day and fly all night.”  She sat down, smoothing her skirt in front of her.

 

Ron’s face was returning to its normal hue, freckles visible once more.  “Can the Squid fly, then?” he asked lightly.

 

“Oh, yes, but only when no one’s watching it,” she replied, nodding her head. 

 

Ron laughed.  Hermione clucked her tongue and returned to her book, but for the first time, Harry thought their scheme might actually work.  He didn’t know who else had noticed it, but he’d been watching Luna after she made her initial pronouncement, and he would bet Galleons that she hadn’t been looking at the Squid.  Maybe this would work out, after all.

 

Later on, Harry shared his insight with his co-conspirator, and while Ron was engaged in a chess game with Seamus, the two of them finally got a chance to plot.  “We know she’s interested, and she certainly has an effect on him,” Hermione whispered, tapping her quill against her cheek.  “The question is, how do we make them see what each other sees?”

 

“Drop hints?” Harry suggested.

 

“All right, but what kind?”

 

“Well, what would work for you?”  Harry asked.  “I mean, what would make you think that someone fancied you?”

 

“Talking to them, I suppose.  That’s what made me realize it with Viktor.  Or,” she added, blushing slightly, “talking _about_ them.”

 

“So if we tell Ron that Luna talks about him a lot, that might work?”

 

“Maybe,” Hermione replied, avoiding his eyes.  “It’s hardly foolproof.  And we can’t just go telling him these things, it’s too direct.”

 

Harry had a feeling he’d just missed something important, but couldn’t think what.  “I don’t know how much more subtle we can go.  If it’s too obscure, he won’t pick up on it.  We males are dense that way,” he said with a grin. 

 

It worked; she smiled back at him.  “You certainly are.  We’ll have to find a middle ground somewhere…”

 

“Oh my god, Lavender, did you hear?” came a barely-hushed whisper from the next table. 

 

“Hear what?” Lavender replied, stopping in her tracks to lean over the fourth year girl’s chair.

 

“One of the seventh years is going to ask Parvati to go to Hogsmeade with him, but we don’t know who!” the younger girl squealed.

 

“Shh, Karen!  Do you want the whole common room to hear?”

 

“Eavesdropping!” Hermione whispered, dragging Harry’s attention away from the now quieter gossips.

 

“Hey, you were doing it, too!” he replied indignantly.

 

“No, Harry, I mean that’s what we can do with Ron.  Stage conversations that he – and she – might overhear, that sort of thing.”

 

Harry wasn’t convinced.  “I don’t know, Hermione, don’t you think he’d wonder why we weren’t saying it to his face?”

 

“Do you have any better ideas?” she demanded.

 

“Well, no…”

 

“Trust me.  As long as we don’t do too much of any one thing, he won’t notice a thing.”

 

“Maybe we should get Ginny or someone in on this, too,” Harry remarked. 

 

Hermione raised her eyebrows.  “Why?”

 

“Because it would look less like we were trying to set him up?” Harry answered.  At her glare, he added, “No, seriously, I think he’ll believe it more if he hears it from more than one person, you know?  It’s no secret that you and Luna don’t get along well; it wouldn’t make sense for her to tell you something like that.  And Ron’s paying attention to everything Gin does, anyway.”

 

Mollified, she said, “Good point.  I guess we should let her in, at least for some of it.  This can’t spread too far, though, or else the whole plan will fall through.” 

 

Harry didn’t want to think about that particular worst-case scenario, so he nodded agreement, and the two set about coming up with a list of hints and suggestions to drop.  When Ron’s chess game came to a win for Ottery St. Catchpole, Harry offered himself up as the next victim, while Hermione snuck Ginny away from Dean, who was ribbing his defeated best friend.  As they played, Harry took a quick look over at the girls and caught Hermione’s eye.  When she grinned and gave him a thumbs-up, Ron’s knight trampling Harry’s bishop didn’t hurt at all.

 

Operation Distraction went into effect in full force over the next few days. It took more coordination and planning than Harry had thought would be necessary, but between the two of them and Ginny, Ron managed to "accidentally" walk in on the girls, who would cut off, exchange knowing looks, and giggle when they saw him, three times. He "overheard" Harry and Hermione having a whispered argument while waiting for him that ended with, "But, Hermione, we promised her we wouldn't tell him how she felt!" He even "caught" Hermione in conversation with the fifth year Ravenclaw prefect, and on more than one occasion, he wondered aloud why Ginny was coming from the direction of the Ravenclaw dinner table.

 

They’d also realized they needed to promote Luna’s good qualities directly to Ron if there was to be any chance of him taking some action.  Luckily, they had some unintended help from the girl herself.  On Monday, Luna stopped by after breakfast once again, to discuss a Herbology project with one of Ginny’s classmates.

 

Out of nowhere, Hermione remarked, “I like your hairclip, Luna.”

 

The blonde paused in surprise.

 

“It’s pretty.  Where did you get it?” Hermione inquired, as if she discussed such things with Luna all the time.

 

Harry gaped at his friend until she delivered a swift kick to his ankle.  Oh.  _Oh._

 

Luna reached up and gently fingered the silver crescent moon holding her hair in place.  “It was my mother’s, actually.  She particularly enjoyed this phase.”

 

“_Luna!_” Ron suddenly exclaimed.  “I get it!”

 

Everyone stared at him, except for Luna herself, who smiled.  “Well, calling me Crescent would have been rather odd, wouldn’t it?  Although I suppose she could have gone with Cheshire.”

 

Ron grinned, proud of his deduction.  Hermione’s smile was beginning to look pasted on.  Harry decided to give up on following the details from now on and concentrate on the bigger picture.  Keeping his sanity, he thought, was a highly desirable thing.

 

Of course, this didn’t mean Harry couldn’t tease Hermione about the incident later.  While they waited for Ron after Potions, Harry commented, “Gee, Hermione, I never knew you were so interested in hair clips.”

 

“Ha, ha,” she replied, rolling her eyes.  “You know I was just trying to draw Ron’s attention to it.  And besides, it was a nice clip!”

 

“Aha!” he cried.  “Can’t fool me, your inner girl is showing once again!”

 

“Oh, wipe that smirk off your face.  I have a vested interest in hair accessories, you realize,” she said, pointing to her bushy brown head.  “Do you have any idea how hard it is to tame this stuff?”

 

He raised an eyebrow.  “A bit, yeah.”  His own mop hadn’t got any better at obeying him with age.

 

Hermione smiled.  “The messy look suits you.”

 

“Any look suits you,” he flipped back.  “Ah, except for the ‘I’ve been up all night studying and haven’t eaten since breakfast yesterday’ one,” he hastily joked.  She swung a textbook at him and he ducked with a laugh, as Ron finally arrived, out of breath.

 

The following day’s hint focused on another of Luna’s aspects: her support for Ron’s Quidditch playing.  The trio were walking in the courtyard between classes when Hermione began to hum, softly at first, but slowly growing in volume.

 

“Hermione, why are you humming ‘Weasley Is Our King?’” Harry asked, on cue.

 

“Because it’s a bloody brilliant song, that’s why,” Ron answered smugly.

 

Hermione rolled her eyes.  “Sorry, it was stuck in my head.  Luna was singing it when I passed her this morning.”

 

“She does that, doesn’t she?” Harry replied mock-innocently, prompting the expected and carefully timed to be visible elbow jab from his friend.  Ron’s eyes narrowed briefly, but he shrugged it off and moved on to talk of Quidditch strategies.

 

That evening, Harry and Hermione stayed late in the common room to work on their “Potions project” after everyone had gone to bed.  In reality, they were discussing their next move.  “So we’ve done looks and interests, that’s two areas.  For the third, we should highlight something a bit deeper,” Hermione rationalized.

 

“You make it all sound so clinical,” Harry said.  “First the chart, then the list…”

 

Hermione bristled.  “Well, it’s the most efficient method, isn’t it?  It’s not as if Luna’s, I don’t know, Fleur Delacour or someone.  We have to work hard to make this work.”

 

“Speaking of which, you do realize that if it does work out, we’re going to be spending a lot more time with Luna, right?” He placed a hand on hers as she sighed.  “Why don’t you like her, Hermione?  I know she’s a little…unusual…”

 

“It’s not that, Harry.”  She sighed again and turned her hand over to clasp his.  “I’m not sure I even know why, anymore.  The reason I disliked her at first is…well, it’s been disproved.”  She glanced up at him quickly, then looked away.  “I _should_ like her – she’s intelligent, and goodness knows I understand what it’s like to be alone – but she just grates on me, somehow.”

 

Harry hesitated.  “I think,” he finally said, throwing fate to the wind, “that you and she are more alike than you might want to admit.”

 

To his surprise and relief, Hermione took the observation in stride, tilting her head in consideration.  And most importantly, she kept her hand in his.

 

“In any case,” he continued, “you’re going to have to learn to like her, or at least accept her, if we succeed.  Remind yourself of how great she was last June or something, if you have to.”

 

Hermione sat up straighter.  “Speaking of that incident, I think I know what we should do next.  But you’re not going to like it.”

 

Harry gave her a wary look.  “Tell me anyway.”

 

She took a deep breath and fiddled with a strand of hair with her free hand.  “As you said, even I can admit she was great at the Ministry.  We need to remind Ron of that.  And – oh, Harry, I know you don’t like talking about what happened, but I don’t see any way around it while still getting the point across,” she pleaded, squeezing his hand when he moved to withdraw it from hers.

 

“You’re damn right I don’t want to talk about it,” Harry fired back, remembering to keep his voice down. 

 

“Well, do you have any other bright ideas?  Because I’m fresh out,” she responded.

 

He sighed.  “No, I don’t.”

 

She paused.  “Then…”

 

“Yeah, okay, fine.  But let me take care of it.”  He was going to do this one his way or not at all.  He kept his eyes on their clasped hands, watching and feeling her second squeeze, fully aware of her concerned but relieved gaze without having to see it.

 

“Of course.  I trust you,” was all she said.  Then she rose, kissed his cheek and wished him goodnight, and Harry was left to gaze into and beyond the crackling fire.  The lingering tingles on his hand and face gave him comfort as he thought out how on earth he could go about putting a very necessary and very personal episode into Operation Distraction.

 

~~~

 

“Um, I guess you’re all probably wondering why I gathered you here…today…” Harry began, glancing at the five expectant pairs of eyes before him in the small, empty classroom.  It was lunchtime.  At breakfast, Harry had asked Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, and Luna to meet him here, while the rest of the school was occupied.  Hermione, he thought, was doing a great job of pretending to be as clueless as the rest.  Of course, it wasn’t all acting; despite her questioning looks all morning, Harry had kept his plan to himself.  Truth be told, it wasn’t much of a plan.  His only objective was to get the job done without turning the whole thing into an unneeded and unwanted pity party.

 

They were still watching him.  “Right.  Well, the six of us have never really, er, talked about, you know, what happened that night.  Not since then, anyway.  And I realized that I’d never thanked you guys-”

 

“Harry, you don’t have to do this,” Hermione started.  Her brown eyes were filling with unshed tears that she was desperately trying to blink back.  The others nodded in agreement, but Harry held out a hand to stop them.

 

“Yes, I do,” he said, catching Hermione’s gaze, trying to convey that he appreciated her concern, but this wasn’t just something he was doing for Operation Distraction.  She got the message and backed down with a tiny nod.

 

“As I was saying, I never got a chance to thank you guys and tell you how much I appreciated your help.  You took huge risks that you shouldn’t have had to take, and I would’ve never made it without you.  I wouldn’t even have started, really.  Neville, you were with me when--” he faltered briefly – Hermione was biting her lower lip, but she restrained herself from interfering-- “-we were under attack; Ginny, it was only because of you that we were able to take action in the first place; and Luna, it was your clear thinking that got us off the ground.  Literally,” he added with a small grin.  “I think we would have stayed there arguing about it all night if you hadn’t come up with the idea.”

 

“That would have been unwise,” Luna replied.  “The star streaks come out then, and they can be quite painful if they hit you.”

 

Ron grinned appreciatively and snickered; he never liked it when the mood got too serious.  Hermione looked torn between being scandalized at the levity and being thrilled by the sidelong glances Ron was throwing Luna.

 

“Right, well, like I said, thanks, guys.  I lost someone…very important to me, that night, but I also learned that the number of people I can trust in this school is larger than I thought.  That’s all…um, thanks for…thanks,” he finished, bowing his head and blinking rapidly.

 

His friends left one by one, murmuring or brushing his arm in appreciation as they passed.  Ginny, Neville, and Luna filed out one by one.  Ron lingered a bit longer, lightly punching Harry’s shoulder before hurrying after the others, showing how he felt with actions rather than words, as always.  Finally, Harry and Hermione were the only two left in the room.  She hadn’t moved from her perch on one of the desks.

 

“That was a beautiful thing to say,” she said, after a silence.  “I think the message got through.”

 

Harry’s head shot up.  “Oh!  I forgot to mention you!  I’m so sorry, Hermione, I meant to say how much I appreciated your support, even when you knew better than to go along with my stupid idea.”

 

“Stop right there, Harry,” she answered, getting up and crossing to him.  “I don’t ever want to hear you feeling guilty about what happened that night.  We didn’t know anything for certain.  If I were you, I’d probably have done the same thing.  There’s no use regretting what we can’t change, so don’t, please.”

 

“Remus gave me a very similar pep talk over the summer,” he admitted with a small rueful grin. 

 

“Remus is a very intelligent man.”

 

“So are you.  Minus the man part.”

 

She smiled and sat beside him.  “So you noticed.”

 

_Hard not to_, he thought.  “I meant it about being thankful, though.  I don’t know why you put up with us acting so stupid all the time.”

 

She sighed.  “That’s another thing you have to stop doing.”

 

“What, thanking you?” He looked up at her, puzzled.

 

“No-- well, yes, in a way.  Ugh, I could kill those Dursleys for putting it into your head that you don’t deserve anything good in your life.  Because you do, Harry.  You don’t need to thank me for helping you, because I don’t do it out of obligation.  I do it because you’re you.  You’re my-- best friend.”

 

There was something there, in her expression, that felt like all the many times over the past few weeks when he’d sensed he was just missing something important.  It still eluded him.  He didn’t know what to say, so he put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze.  It seemed to be the right thing to do.  Changing the subject seemed like another bright idea.  “Well, best friend, why don’t we go see if Ron’s left us anything to eat.  There’s still time, right?”

 

“Fifteen minutes,” she replied automatically from the scholastic clock in her head.  They slid off the desk and headed for the door.  “And there might be more food left than you think.  Ron looked awfully focused on following Luna when he left here.”

 

“You think?” Harry asked, eyebrows raised.

 

“I do.”

 

“Then I believe it.”

 

Hermione laughed.  “If only everyone was as accommodating as you are, Harry, the world would be a much better place.”

 

“Planet Hermione.”  He pretended to ponder.  “It could work…”  Their combined laugher echoed behind them as they made their way to the Great Hall.

~~~

 

Operation Distraction continued as the week wore on, with Harry and Hermione taking it in turns to drop hints and make comments about Luna.  They had caught Ron staring off into space on a few occasions, which they took as a sign that their plans were working, albeit slowly.  Saturday found the conspirators sharing a table in the common room, books spread, when their target came bounding through the portrait hole.

 

“Guys, I need your help,” Ron whispered to his friends.

 

“Ron, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times, I am not doing your homework for you,” Hermione replied, not looking up from her parchment.  Spending large portions of their free time matchmaking was taking a toll on both of their homework.

 

Ron glared at her. “That’s not what I was asking, thanks so much for your confidence in me.”

 

“What is it, then?” Harry cut in before they could get into another argument.

 

The redhead glanced around at the crowded common room.  “Could we go somewhere else, maybe?  Like the Room of Requirement?”

 

Harry caught Hermione’s eyes.  There were very few things that would require that sort of secrecy, and since they weren’t (yet) involved in any dark mystery solving this year, the possibility that their plans were finally seeing some results looked likely.  “Of course,” Hermione said, gathering up her work and stowing it away. 

 

It was the middle of the day, so they didn’t bother with Harry’s father’s cloak.  They let Ron establish the setting – “a quiet place to talk” – and the trio entered the Room, which was now set up to look like a miniature version of their own common room, with cozy scarlet armchairs and poufs, small tables, and a fireplace.  Harry and Hermione sat down and looked expectantly at their friend, who was staring at the table and wringing his hands.

 

Finally, Harry broke the silence.  “What’s going on, Ron?”

 

Ron started as if he’d forgotten they were even there.  “Right.  Er, well, here’s the thing.  You know I’ve never been on a-- er-- date or anything, yeah?”  They nodded.  “But _you_ have--”

 

“What?” Harry burst out.  “Hermione and I haven’t- aren’t-”

 

“I think he means with other people, Harry.  You with Cho, me with Viktor?” Hermione pointed out with a raised eyebrow.

 

“Oh, right,” Harry said, relaxing back into his chair, feeling his face burn red.  _Of course that’s what he meant.  Watch it, Potter, they’ll think something’s up with you.  Which it isn’t. _ “Wait, you went _out_ with Viktor?” he questioned, sitting up again.

 

“Over the summer,” she replied calmly.  For once, Harry couldn’t read her expression, and it put him at a loss for words.

 

“Yeah, well,” Ron continued obliviously, eyes darting anywhere but to them, “I need you to tell me…”  They waited.  He took a deep breath, screwed his courage, and said, “How do you ask a girl out?”

 

Could it be?  Had they – or, more accurately, had Luna - finally succeeded in attracting Ron’s attention as more than the slightly batty girl next door?  Harry noticed Hermione’s fingers were crossed behind her back.

 

Harry couldn’t resist.  “Who’s the girl?” he teased.

 

“Mumblewumble,” replied Ron.

 

“Sorry, didn’t catch that, could you repeat it?” he pressed.

 

Ron glared at him.  “I don’t want to say until I know if she likes me back, okay?  It doesn’t matter, just help me out, here.”

 

“But it _does_ matter, Ron,” Hermione said.  “Girls aren’t all the same.  You can’t expect the same – er – technique to work with all of us.”  Ron groaned and buried his face in his hands.  “Besides, didn’t you ask Padma to the Yule Ball?”

 

“Actually, I asked her for him,” Harry said.  “Well – I asked Parvati to ask her for him.  And we all know how well that went, anyway.”

 

“Isn’t there a basic line that I can use?” Ron moaned.  “Why do girls have to be so complicated?”

 

Hermione rolled her eyes.  “Try this: ‘Mystery Girl, will you go out with me?’”

 

Ron snorted.  “Right, like that’s ever worked for anyone.”

 

“Oh, you’re impossible!”  Hermione stood up and stepped into the clear space behind the chair cluster.  “Harry, come here.”  Bemused, Harry followed her.  She grabbed his arms and placed him squarely facing her, their profiles turned to Ron.  “Look, Harry will demonstrate.  Say the line, Harry,” she commanded.  Ron peered at them through his fingers.

 

Well, this was weird. “Hermione, will you go out with me?” he obliged.

 

“Oh, you can do better than _that_,” she chided.  “Pretend like you actually _want_ to go out with me, no matter how much of a stretch that is.”

 

Harry thought that bit of vitriol was uncalled for.  “Hermione will you go out with me?” he said, glaring at her.

 

“Okay, _now_ you sound like you’re being forced to do something unpleasant,” she replied, looking annoyed.

 

“But I _am-_-” he started to say, then realized that it wasn’t entirely true.

 

“See!” Ron exclaimed.  “It’s harder than it looks!”

 

Hermione ignored him, returning Harry’s glare.  “No one’s making you do this, you know, if it’s that much of an impossible chore.”

 

“I never said it was,” he sputtered, “it’s just not something you can pop off any time!”  _Especially not when you’re you and I’m me, _he wanted to add.

 

“Is it that hard to imagine asking me out?” she asked.

 

Warning bells rang through Harry’s head.  _Tread wisely, young grasshopper._  “I never said that,” he replied, struggling to keep his voice level.

 

“I just _thought_ you’d want to help our best friend, that’s all.  I _thought_ this would be a simple, easy, instructive demonstration.”  Whoa, what on earth had he set off?  Her hands were planted firmly on her hips, which he really shouldn’t be looking at now, what with the look in her eyes being ten times more dangerous at the moment.  Ron, sensing the increasing tension in the air, didn’t move a muscle except for his eyes, which were darting between his friends.

 

The smart thing to do would be to back down before the lioness.  But no one ever said Harry was smart.  “Of _course_ I want to help Ron,” Harry replied, matching her tone.  “I never said I didn’t.  I’m just saying that from an _objective_ male perspective, it doesn’t do any good to show Ron a situation that would never happen in real life.” 

 

Hermione gasped.  Instantly, Harry realized his faux pas.  He sighed.  “Let me try that again,” he amended, before the look in Hermione’s eyes could get any more pained.  “This whole, simple, will you go out with me thing – it doesn’t work by itself.  You have to…I don’t know, lead up to it, somehow.  He can’t just walk up to L-- whoever the girl is and say that.  Trust me,” he said in a lower tone of voice.

 

Hermione didn’t move, but her eyes spoke of the torrent of untold thoughts her mind was racing through.  Harry didn’t know what they were, could guess but didn’t want to, so he simply held her gaze, pleading with her to realize that anything he had just said was not intended to be a slight to her, never would be.

 

After a long moment, she blinked, and looked at him with clear resolve.  “What do you suggest, then?” she asked, any traces of her earlier indignation vanished, at least for now.

 

Harry didn’t know what to think about what had just happened, so he shoved it aside and focused on the task at hand.  “Let’s try your idea again, but this time, no script, no forcing it.  I’m just a wizard, and you’re just a witch.  Of course, it would help a lot if Ron told us who the girl is…” He glanced over at his friend.

 

“Not a chance,” Ron shot back.

 

Harry shrugged.  “Fine.  We’ll play it by ear.  Maybe do it a few times to cover different possible reactions.  Okay?” he asked Hermione.

 

She nodded.  “Yeah, okay.  Um, you want to start?”  She wiped her palms on her robes and took a step back.

 

“Sure,” he said, backing up as well.  “Just follow my lead.”  _Okay, you can do this, Potter.  Remember Cho…and do the exact opposite of everything you did then_. 

 

–Scenario One: My Porridge Is Too Cold-

 

_Boy sees Girl in the hallway and catches up to her._

BOY:  Hey.

 

GIRL:  Hi.

 

BOY:  All right?

 

GIRL:  All right.  You?

 

BOY:   All right. 

 

_Pause.  Boy stares at girl.  Girl shifts uncomfortably._

 

BOY:  Going to Hogsmeade this weekend?

 

GIRL: Maybe.  I have a lot of work to do.

 

BOY:  Oh.  (_Pause._)  See you later, then.

 

GIRL: Okay. 

 

BOY:  Bye.

 

GIRL:  Bye.

 

_Boy leaves._

 

-Scenario Two: My Porridge Is Too Hot!-

 

_Boy sees Girl in hallway and catches up to her._

 

BOY:  Hey!  How are you?

 

GIRL:  All right, very busy with school, of course.

 

BOY:  All work and no play makes you a dull girl.

 

GIRL:  Hah, very funny.

 

BOY:  No, seriously, you need to take a break!  You can’t spend all your time holed up inside.

 

GIRL:  Don’t be silly, I don’t do that.

 

BOY:  Prove it.

 

GIRL:  Beg pardon?

 

BOY:  You.  Me.  Hogsmeade.  Now.  Let’s go. _(He grabs her arm.)_

 

GIRL:  (_Yanks her arm away._)  I don’t think so.  Goodbye. 

 

_Girl leaves._

-Scenario Three: Just Right-

 

_Boy sees Girl in hallway and catches up to her._

 

BOY:  Hey, Hermione, how are you?

 

GIRL:  All right, tons of work to do, though.

 

BOY:  I’m sure you’ll finish it weeks before the rest of us and ten times better.

 

GIRL:  We’ll see.  (_She blushes._)  How’s your work going?

 

BOY:  All right, I guess.  Actually, I wanted to ask you something.

 

GIRL:  Okay, what is it?

 

BOY:  I know you’re busy, but do you think you’ll have time to go to Hogsmeade this weekend?

 

GIRL:  I’m not sure.  Why?

 

BOY:  Well, I was wondering – if you don’t already have plans, that is – if you’d like to go there with me? 

 

GIRL:  Oh!  You mean on a- a date?

 

BOY:  Yeah.  If you want to.

 

GIRL:  (_Pauses to consider it, then smiles_.)  Sure.  Yes, I’d love to go to Hogsmeade with you.

 

-CURTAIN-

 

The demonstration was over, but Harry couldn’t wipe the silly grin off of his face.  That hadn’t been so bad!  He’d been improvising everything, trying to figure out where the extremes were so he could go for the best middle ground.  From the way Hermione was looking back at him with shining eyes and pink cheeks, it had worked.

 

Ron’s applause broke the eye contact as the actors turned to their lone audience member.  “That was brilliant!  Thanks, guys, though I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it right.”

 

Harry shrugged.  “Just go with how you feel.  That’s all I was doing.”

 

“Now do we get to know who she is?” Hermione asked.

 

Ron shook his head.  “Not yet.  I promise I’ll tell you eventually, but right now, I’ve got a girl to find.”  He bounced off the chair and headed for the door.

 

“Some best friend you are!” Harry called after him as he left.

 

Hermione collapsed into the fireside sofa.  “I think we did it.”

 

“I hope so.  This matchmaking business is hard work.”  Harry sank into the seat beside her.

 

“Even if it’s not Luna, we succeeded.  He’s got someone to distract him from his sister’s love life.”

 

“Unless she turns him down,” Harry pointed out.

  
”If he does what you did, she won’t, trust me,” Hermione replied.

 

He shrugged.  “I didn’t say anything that special.”

 

“It wasn’t just what you said, Harry, it’s what you did.  Your tone of voice, the way you flattered me and showed that you respect me…and you’d better watch where you throw that smile.”

  
”What smile?”

 

“That one!” she giggled.  “The one you’re giving me right now.”

 

“Am not!” he said, trying to frown.  She only laughed harder at the expression he made.

 

“Are too.”

 

“Am not!”

 

“Oh, now this is really mature,” she commented through gasping breaths as he gave up and joined her in mirth.  They sat for some time snickering to themselves; as soon as they’d calm down, one of them would remember something and start laughing again, taking the other with them.  Finally, they settled down, watching the flames crackle in the hearth.

 

“Hermione?” Harry started.

 

“Hmm?” she replied.  Her eyes were closed, a lazy smile on her face.

 

“About what I said before…I know how it must have sounded, and…I didn’t mean it.”

 

“I know.  It’s all right, I overreacted.”

 

“Okay.  Good.”  The fire glowed bright yellow and white; it hurt his eyes to look straight at it.  He wondered when the snow would start this year.  That reminded him of a nagging thought.  “Hermione?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Did you really go out with Viktor Krum this summer?”

 

She laughed softly.  “Yeah, I did.  Or at least _I_ thought I did.”

 

He rolled his head to face her.  “Explain.”

 

“Viktor was here over the summer with his team, and he owled me to see if I wanted to meet him at Diagon Alley for lunch.  I had some silly idea that he was asking me on a date, so I got all dressed up and met him at Fortescue’s.  Imagine my surprise when he showed up, sweaty and smelly, still in his practice uniform – and you know how I hate that.” 

 

Harry grinned.  “I hope you didn’t yell at him like you do Ron and me.”

 

“Oh, of course not, I was far too worried about what impression I was giving him!  All through lunch, he asked me about school and classes, and he talked about work and his new baby niece, and I began to clue in that he no longer saw me in quite the way he did two years ago.  When he brought up his girlfriend, I finally realized how silly I’d been.”  She shook her head ruefully.

 

“Viktor Krum has a girlfriend?” Harry goggled. 

 

“His publicist, if you can believe it.  Smart, sophisticated, and judging by the photo he showed me, very beautiful in a mature adult sort of way.  I was so embarrassed!” she said, slapping her forehead.

 

“You and your older men,” Harry teased her.

 

“Oh, like you’re one to talk,” she replied.

 

“Nah, I think I’ve gone off older women since last year,” he admitted.

 

“Me, too.  Men, I mean.  Really older ones.”

 

In a perfect fairy tale world, the moment would have been a grand opportunity.  This world, however, was one populated by two confused teenagers and as such was far from perfect.  The unsaid words hung in the air around them while they sat there on the couch.  Harry’s mind was both racing and paralyzed; he was at the same time anxious and at peace.  When he realized that he wanted nothing more at the moment than to sling his arm around Hermione’s shoulder and pull her close against him, a thousand imaginary Weasley twin fireworks went off in his mind, and suddenly, he knew what those nagging doubts and contrary thoughts that had been springing up in his mind lately were all about.

 

And the thought of what it meant petrified him.

 

So instead of any heartfelt revelations or gasping declarations, they sat there, unmoving, staring into the fire.

 

~~~

 

To their surprise and dismay, Ron showed no signs of having changed the nature of his relationship with Luna, or anyone, at all.  At dinner, he was no different than ever, throwing no longing looks or googly-eyed sighs towards the Ravenclaw table.  Their oblique references to the earlier conversation got no results; by unspoken agreement, Harry would be the one to do some real digging later, in their dorm’s relative privacy. 

 

For once, Hermione was the first of the three to say goodnight.  She gave an exaggerated yawn and declared she was absolutely exhausted by ten-thirty, admonishing her friends to get some sleep, as well.

 

Ron raised an eyebrow.  “It’s awfully early.  Don’t you guys need to stay up for that Potions project?  I’ll clear out of you need me to.”

 

“Oh, the project can wait till tomorrow,” Hermione scoffed, prompting the boys to share amused looks.  She rolled her eyes and stood.  “Go ahead, have a good laugh about it, but at least wait until I’m out of earshot, all right?”

 

Harry chuckled.  “Good night, Hermione.”

 

She smiled back.  “Good night.”  And with that, she was gone.

 

Ron was looking pensive; Harry seized the opportunity.  “Why don’t we head up to the room?  It’s too loud down here.”  Ron agreed, and the two were shortly in their dormitory, with Dean, Seamus and Neville safely accounted for downstairs.  Ron pulled out his chess set, and they settled down on his bed for a game.

 

Harry didn’t waste any time getting to the point.  After his second move, he asked, “So Ron, did she say yes?”

 

“Huh?” Ron mumbled, engrossed in planning.

 

“The girl you needed help with?  From earlier?”

 

“Oh, that,” said Ron, pushing his piece forward.  “Eh, I didn’t do it.”

 

Harry gaped.  “What?  I thought you were going to; I mean, you said you were going off to find her, right?”

 

Ron shrugged.  “Yeah, but it wasn’t the right time to ask her anything.  Your move.”

 

Harry poked a pawn forward, not really paying attention to the game.  “You could always tell me who she is, you know.”

 

Ron smirked.  “I could, but then you’d turn right around and tell Hermione, and that’d be the end of any peace for me.”

 

Unfortunately, Harry couldn’t deny it in this instance – it wouldn’t be fair to his co-conspirator – but he could still be indignant.  “Hey!  Is that what you think of me?  Hermione’s spy?”

 

“No, but let’s face it, mate, you can’t keep anything from her, even when you try.  She gets it out of you eventually.”  His knight speared Harry’s pawn with its lance and flung it off the board.

 

Harry tried and failed to think of a counter-example as he absently made his next move.  “Can, too,” was all he could come up with.

 

Ron snorted and reached for the board.  “Keep telling yourself that, Harry.  Maybe it’ll come true sometime this century.”

 

Harry didn’t respond, too caught up in his own thoughts and only peripherally aware of the game.

  
They played on, but after a minute, Ron sighed.  “Come on, I didn’t mean anything by it.  It’s just so obvious to everyone that you guys practically read each other’s minds without even being Legilimens.” ****

 

Oh, no.  What if Ron was right and Hermione really _could_ read his mind?  That would mean she’d seen all those confusing thoughts he’d been having lately, thoughts that he _shouldn’t_ have been having, not if he wanted to keep…but no, that was ridiculous, he thought, shaking his head.  Of course she couldn’t read his mind, anymore than he could read the puzzling and intriguing flashes in her eyes.

 

He said as much – well, an abbreviated version.  “You’ve got it all wrong.  Hermione’s the most confusing person I know.  Half the time, she’s normal, and then something will happen and she’ll do or say something weird, and I have no idea why.”

 

Ron shrugged.  “She’s a girl, that’s what they do.  Your move.”

 

Harry eyed him suspiciously.  “How are you being so calm about this?  Last year, you were demanding that she write a book to explain the female mind.”  He randomly selected a piece and pushed it forward.

 

“Well, that was back when I fancied her, right?  And now I don’t, so it’s not a problem.  Checkmate, by the way.”

 

Harry glanced at the board in surprise.  He was, indeed, boxed into a corner.  “Oops.”

 

“That was way too easy, where was your mind?  Want another game?  I’ll let you take the first few pieces.”  But before Harry could respond, their three roommates burst in, jabbering about Seamus’s new trick of balancing his wand on his nose.  All thoughts of chess – and Hermione – were banished in favor of acquiring this exciting skill.

 

It wasn’t until he met up with Hermione the next morning to report that Harry realized something: Ron hadn’t thrown one dirty look or suspicious remark at Dean the entire evening.  This news made Hermione perk up.

 

“So even if he hasn’t asked her out yet, he’s definitely distracted.  That’s progress.”

 

“All we really set out to do, right?” said Harry.  “So we’re done?”

 

Hermione raised her eyebrows at him.  “Are you mad?  Don’t you want to find out who this mystery girl is and, you know, finish the job?  I’m dead curious, myself.”

 

“It’s not our business, though.  As long as he’s not complaining about Dean non-stop, I’m happy to let him have a secret.”  If only so that Harry could have secrets of his own.

 

“But what if it was a fluke?” Hermione pressed.  “You said yourself he hasn’t asked her out yet.  Maybe whatever it was you guys were doing got his mind off of them for a while, but it could come right back when he’s not involved in something.”  She paused.  “What _were_ you up to, anyway?”

 

“Erm,” Harry replied, squirming in his seat.  Damn, she really _could_ get anything out of him. 

 

Luckily, he was saved from having to try and fail at making something up by Ron’s voice calling down the stairs.  “Make way, make way, for King Weasley and his Keeper’s balancing skills!”

 

It was all Harry could do to pretend not to notice Hermione’s incredulous look as Ron came slowly into view, arms spread wide, balancing his wand upright on his nose like he’d been doing it all his life.

 

~~~

 

The library that evening was the setting for the next incident in the Gryffindor soap opera, as Harry was beginning to think of it.  The machinations and confusion around him, not to mention his own admittedly melodramatic mental state, reminded him of nothing more than Aunt Petunia’s favorite television programs, which she watched every day, religiously, while Harry performed some menial task around the house.  He’d absorbed far too much about them by simple proximity.

 

The trio had commandeered a table for themselves early on – a lucky move, as the library was full of students who had spent most of the weekend ignoring their homework and were now paying the price.  For once, Harry’s mind was focused on nothing but schoolwork, and he was grateful.

 

“Mind if we join you?” a voice broke in.

 

Harry looked up.  Ginny was standing by the table – with Luna at her side. 

So much for focus. 

 

Harry and Hermione shared a quick glance, and Hermione nodded.  “Of course, have a seat.  Ron, move over.”  He did, although to Hermione’s dismay, Ginny took the place next to her brother, and Luna joined Hermione on the opposite side.

 

“What are you studying?” the Ravenclaw asked, leaning over Hermione’s book.

 

“Arithmancy,” she replied, shifting down the bench.

 

Luna nodded.  “Fascinating subject, isn’t it?”

 

Hermione blinked.  “You’re taking Arithmancy?”

 

“I’m a Ravenclaw,” Luna replied, as if this explained everything.  Which, considering what Harry knew of Hermione’s class’s composition, it did.

 

“Fifth year was interesting, yes,” Hermione said slowly, “but it gets even better in sixth because you’re not drilling for the O.W.L.s all the time.”

 

Luna beamed.  “That sounds lovely.  I like making the numbers waltz around the page and watching them invent new moves.”

 

To Harry’s utter shock and disbelief, Hermione grinned.  “I suppose you could look at it that way,” she said.  “Although I wouldn’t…”

 

Luna shrugged.  “I say what I think, no less.”  That was certainly true.

 

Hermione shook her head.  “That’s admirable, but I think it’s better to keep some things to yourself.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Not about important things, like – well, you know,” she said, glancing around at the other tables, “but when it’s more, ah, personal matters, discretion can save everyone a lot of embarrassment.”

 

“Or it can lead to a sum greater than its parts,” Luna countered.  “At the very least, it frees up the mind for more important things.  For instance, my father writes letters to the _Prophet_ every week, detailing the errors they’ve made.  They never print the corrections, but he can write his own stories with a clear conscience, knowing that he gave them the opportunity to print the real news.”  And with that, she opened up her own textbook and began to read.

 

Hermione wasn’t ready to let the topic drop, though.  “And he’s not afraid of something bad happening because of it?”

 

Ginny piped up.  “What’s the worst that could happen?  They both move on with their papers.”

 

It was beginning to dawn on Harry that this conversation was not about newspapers. 

 

Hermione continued speaking.  “That works in simple cases, but there’s more at stake here.  People’s jobs, people’s live- liveli_hoods_, that sort of thing.  There could be serious consequences if- things didn’t work out,” she finished.

 

Ginny rolled her eyes.  “Don’t worry so much, Hermione.  You spend so much time thinking about all the bad possibilities that you never think about the good ones.”

 

“And in any case, my father can always call on the banshees.  They owe him a favor,” Luna said, matter-of-factly, without taking her eyes off her book.

 

Hermione frowned, pensive, but remained silent.  Ginny quirked a smile and continued working on her essay.  Ron watched the whole exchange in amused silence.  Luna read her book as if no one else was there.  And Harry glanced between all of them in confusion, wondering just what had happened here, and why the conversation was playing on repeat in his head.

 

~~~

 

As usual, Monday arrived all too quickly for the Hogwarts students.  It had now been over a week since Operation Distraction went into full force, with little discernable progress.  Harry and Hermione were at a loss.

 

“I don’t understand,” said Hermione, as they were walking around the lake before dinner.  “Ron’s never been much for keeping secrets, at least not ones like this.  Five years together, you’d think he’d trust us by now.”

 

 

“Maybe I should talk to him,” she continued.  “Maybe he’ll tell me what he won’t tell you, for whatever bizarre reason.”

 

Harry sighed.  “Good luck, but I doubt it.  He made it pretty clear that he didn’t want either of us to know.”

 

“Is he afraid we’ll make fun of him for it, maybe?”

 

“I hadn’t thought of that.  But we’re hardly Fred and George!  Ron’s usually the one making jokes about the two of us,” Harry pointed out.

 

“Is he embarrassed about Luna?”

 

Harry shook his head, saying, “No way, not after all of the compliments we’ve been giving her.”

 

“Well, _what_, then?” Exasperated, she plopped down on a smooth rock.

 

As she clearly wasn’t expecting an answer, Harry simply sat down beside her and put a comforting arm around her shoulder.  They stared off across the lake for a few moments, silent, as Harry lightly rubbed her arm.

 

Hermione finally broke the quiet.  “You must think I’m insane,” she said quietly, through a small chuckle.

 

“Why?  Because you’re spending so much time trying to orchestrate your best friend’s love life?  You’re not the only insane one, then.”

 

She laughed and reached up to clasp his hand that was around her.  “Did you draw up charts and lists and suddenly develop a profound interest in hair accessories?”

 

“No, but I wouldn’t expect otherwise from you.  Well, except for the hair stuff.” 

 

“Oh, of course, there goes Hermione with her charts again, must be time to revise,” she recited without malice.

 

“Come on, that’s not how we see it.  Look, I know Ron and I – mostly Ron, but I do it, too – tease you, but it’s really admiration for how organized and efficient you are.  We couldn’t do it without you,” he pointed out.

 

She half-smiled.  “You make me sound like a computer program.  ‘Organized and efficient, guaranteed to sort and save your important files.’”

 

Harry sputtered.  “Computer program?  Hermione, is that really how you think I see you?”  He turned her to face him, hands on her shoulders.

 

She rolled her eyes.  “Of course not, I know we’re best friends.  We’ve been through too much to just be tools to one another.”

 

“Way too much,” he agreed, trying to meet her downcast gaze.  “Hermione, I haven’t had many friends in my life – Dudley took care of that – but I’ve got a pretty good idea of what best friends are supposed to be like, and what we have…”

 

She looked up at him.  “What do we have, Harry?”

 

His mouth went dry.  “It’s…”  God, why couldn’t he be the articulate one of the three!  “…definitely best friends,” he finished, lying to himself as much as he was to her.

 

“Oh,” she replied.  “I think so, too.”

 

“You do?” he squeaked.

 

“Yes.  We’re best friends.  All three of us,” she said, matter-of-factly.  “We should probably head back.”

 

With a sense of disquiet, Harry released her and was in mid-rise when a figure came crashing through the bushes.  It was Ginny, and she was panting for breath.  “Harry!  Hermione!  Thank goodness I found you two, you have to come quick!”

 

“Why?  What’s happened?” Hermione demanded, springing up.

 

“It’s Ron – and – oh, just come!”  And with that, Ginny turned and ran back towards the castle.  Harry and Hermione exchanged an alarmed glance and then took off together after the redhead. 

 

Harry, by far the faster of the two, grabbed Hermione’s hand to help her keep up.  They followed Ginny to the base of the castle, where she stopped short.  Harry halted right behind her; Hermione wasn’t so successful, crashing into him with an, “Oomph!”  He steadied her, and they both followed Ginny’s motion to crouch behind the hedges.

 

“Ginny,” Hermione said, catching her breath, “what is it?  Where’s Ron?  Is he okay?”

 

“Shh!” the younger girl replied, a finger to her lips.  “If he hears you, you won’t get to see your plans finally succeed!”

 

Harry and Hermione shared another look, excited this time.  Just when they’d given up hope!  Hermione squeezed his hand in anticipation.  Then Ginny punched his shoulder, directing their attention back out to the lawn before them, where their friend was finally making an appearance.

 

Ron, who was looking around furtively in the dusk, was pulling behind him the perpetually calm, mildly curious Luna Lovegood.  To the conspirators’ delight, he paused five feet in front of their hedge, seeming to decide that here was a safe spot, away from prying eyes. 

 

“What’s going on, Ronald?” Luna asked, fixing her owlish eyes upon the redhead.

 

“Uh, I, uh, have to tell you something…” Ron stammered, trying his best to avoid looking directly at her.

 

Under any other circumstances, Harry would perhaps have felt guilty at spying on such a private moment as this was promising to become.  But he, and Hermione, had invested far too much time and effort into Operation Distraction, and damn it, they deserved to see its happy conclusion!  It didn’t take much intuition to know that Hermione, with her eager eyes fixed on the couple and her ever-tighter grip, felt the same.

 

“Go on,” said Luna, patient as ever.  “There’s no need to be embarrassed; it’s just me.”

 

“Right,” Ron replied, taking a deep breath and finally meeting her eyes with resolve.  “Luna, I’ve been so stupid – or blind or something, I don’t know – and I didn’t realize something that should have been as plain as day.  See, growing up in a big family, especially as one of the youngest, you have to fight to make yourself heard, and you kind of forget to look around you sometimes.  I always had this idea in my head, even when I thought all girls had invisible, contagious dragon pox, that when I grew up, I’d meet someone and immediately just _know_ that she – she was the one for me.”

 

Hermione was nearly convulsing with excitement; Harry’s hand was starting to lose feeling, but he didn’t care. 

 

Ron continued, “But that’s not how it worked out.  I mean, I fancied a few girls, but I never had that brick to the head moment I always heard Mum telling Ginny about.  I just didn’t expect that when it finally _did_ hit me, it’d be for someone I’d known most of my life – the girl next door.”

 

Harry’s free hand flew up to cover Hermione’s gasp almost before she could utter it.  Luckily, neither Ron, nor Luna, whose eyes had widened impossibly larger, noticed. 

 

“What I’m trying to say, Luna, is that one day I was just plain old Ron, and then I turned around and you were there.  And now I can’t see anything else.”  He brought her hand up to his chest and searched her face for a response.  “And I have to know if there’s any way you might – I mean – feel…”

 

Then Luna broke into a wider smile than they’d ever seen her wear before.  “Ronald, I always have.  I was just waiting for you to wake up.” 

 

Ron’s grin matched hers, but Harry didn’t see what happened next, because he suddenly found himself covered by Hermione, who had thrown her arms around his neck and knocked him to the ground in joy.  He didn’t mind, instinctively hugging her back, channeling his silent glee into pressing her as close to him as possible, which got no protest from Hermione.  Air became an issue, so he rolled them over and propped his elbows on the grass, looking down at her jubilant face with…

 

…and it was as if time stopped.  Ginny, Ron, and Luna were all forgotten as Harry was captured by Hermione’s gaze, and she his.  No force on earth, no magic could pull him away from her; something stronger and more powerful than either drew him down, ever closer, until even the depths of her startled eyes became a blur, and a thousand fireworks went off in his mind as their lips met for the first time.

 

Brick to the head, indeed.

 

He would never know how long it went on.  All he knew was that she was kissing him back and the world was a beautiful, wondrous Elysium of eternal joy.  When they finally broke for air, they blinked dazedly at one another, Hermione biting her lower lip but smiling through it.  Gradually, his other senses woke up to the sound of…cheering?

 

He turned his head and found Ron, Luna, and Ginny all enthusiastically cheering and applauding.  Ron was punching the air; Ginny was doing a dance reminiscent of when Harry’s name had been cleared by the Wizengamot; Luna had her hands clasped in front of her as if that was the only thing keeping her feet on the ground.

 

He looked back at Hermione and found she was as puzzled and at a loss as he was.  The best he could manage was, “Er?”

 

Fortunately, it was enough to capture their audience’s attention.  “Bloody hell, Harry, when you go for it, you _really_ go for it!” said, of course, Ron.

 

Hermione recovered the power of speech.  “Does someone want to tell us what just happened here?”

 

Ginny snickered.  “Why don’t you tell us, you looked rather involved in it.”  The three of them collapsed into giggles.

 

“Really,” said Ron, controlling himself, “you should know.  After all, it’s the same thing you two’ve been trying to do to me and Luna for a week.”

 

“What?” Harry finally choked out.  “You mean you…?”

 

“Set you up? Got it in one, mate.”

 

“We tried to get you to realize it on your own, but you’re both very dense,” Luna added.

 

“But what about everything you just told Luna?” Hermione demanded.  “That was all staged?”

 

“More of a reenactment, really,” said Ron, taking Luna’s hand with a shy smile. 

 

“Wait,” said Harry, “you guys were already a-- a--”

 

“Couple, yes,” said Luna.  “Since last Wednesday.”

 

“Wednesday?  But that was before you even asked-”

 

“For help with girls?  Yeah, that was part of our plan.  Once we realized what you guys were trying to do – and thanks, by the way – we thought we’d return the favor.  Got Ginny to help us out, too.”

 

Hermione sputtered.  “Ginny, I thought you were helping _us_!”

 

“I was!”  She shrugged.  “What can I say, I’ve been bored since I broke up with Dean.”  Everyone did a double take at her.  “Oh, honestly, you’ve all been so wrapped up in your own dramas that you wouldn’t notice if You-Know-Who invaded Hogwarts during dinner and had his Death Eaters tap dance on the tables.”

 

“Speaking of dinner,” Ron said to Luna, “let’s go, I’m starved.  Dramatic scenes give me an appetite.”

 

Luna cocked her head.  “Have I ever told you that you remind me of the flame-haired platyrrhind, who eats nothing but eucalyptus and cheese?”

  
Ron laughed and slung his arm around her shoulders, leading her off.  “No, but I’d love to hear all about it.”  Ginny raised an eyebrow, winked, and followed her brother and his girlfriend.

 

That left Harry and Hermione staring at one another, the darkness penetrated only by the torchlight from within the castle.  Harry suddenly realized he was still essentially lying on top of Hermione; with the excitement over, he sat up, giving her a hand to pull her upright.

 

“Well,” she said.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Do you feel as stupid as I do?”

 

“Probably more.”  He rubbed his thumb across her hand.  “But honestly?  I’m can’t say I’m upset about it.”

 

She smiled, that smile that he now knew for certain only belonged to him.  “Same here.”  And with that, she put a hand to his cheek and pulled him in for another kiss.

 

At the castle doors, Ron paused, watching the scene.  He shook his head and followed Luna and Ginny inside.  “Schmoopy.”


End file.
